


Like Humans Do

by saunteringsnake



Series: Like Humans Do [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Tempts Aziraphale (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, First Times, Fluff, Holidays, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Resolutions, Other, Silly, Valentine's Day, also i don't mean to have them making out so often but i'm horny on main for these fools rn so....
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-05-18 17:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19339078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunteringsnake/pseuds/saunteringsnake
Summary: “You know we can do whatever you want to now, angel,” Crowley growled, leaning in and starting to slowly kiss a line underneath Aziraphale’s jaw.“Patience, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley stilled, but left his lips resting just under the angel’s left ear. “And we’ve done... that... already, plenty of times. I’d like to propose a little New Year’s Resolution. I’d like to try a bit more of the human experience. There’s so much I’ve read about, but I’d like to learn about it firsthand... with you."A short series of Crowley and Aziraphale trying their hand at holidays, celebrations, and other... human experiences. Some romantic, some funny, and a few sexy.





	1. New Year's

10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Happy New Year! 

 

Even from the quiet of the bookstore, it felt like the whole country was cheering and celebrating.

 

“It’s sort of lovely, isn’t it?” Aziraphale was tucked into the corner of an antique French Rococo loveseat. He delicately swirled the wine in his glass.

 

“I mean,  _ you  _ are, but I’m guessing that’s not what you’re talking about.” Crowley was wrapped around Aziraphale as much as a snake could be while remaining human-shaped. He was chugging his wine, rather than bothering with the swirling.

 

“Oh, you,” Aziraphale protested, giving him a playful tap on the thigh. “I meant humanity. Out, enjoying the world. They have no idea how close it was to ending, but they still celebrate the passage of time. I think it’s very sweet, all their little holidays and parties.”

 

“I suppose for spending so much time on Earth, we were always too busy working to really enjoy our leisure time.”

 

“ _ I  _ was busy working. You were the one with a trick coin and I ended up doing everything,” Aziraphale pouted.

 

Crowley pulled out this same shilling that had followed them through the centuries from his pants pocket. He gave it a few demonstrative tosses and got a series of tails. He chuckled deeply.

 

“You  _ liked _ it! You knew you were playing a game of chance with a demon; the odds were always stacked against you.” Crowley continued tossing the coin, making it do more flips without allowing it to go any higher.

 

“And yet, I won sometimes anyway,” Aziraphale triumphantly countered, snatching it out of the air. He leaned forward making deep, sultry eye contact with the demon and tucked the coin deliberately back into Crowley’s pocket, a little deeper than it needed to go. The demon’s pupils dilated. Aziraphale leaned back, a bit smug. “Regardless, there was a lot that we didn’t get to do when we had our bosses breathing down our necks.”

 

“You know we can  _ do _ whatever you want to now, angel,” Crowley growled, leaning in and starting to slowly kiss a line underneath Aziraphale’s jaw.

 

“Patience, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley stilled, but left his lips resting just under the angel’s left ear. “And we’ve done  _ that _ already, plenty of times. I’d like to propose a little New Year’s Resolution. I’d like to try a bit more of the human experience. There’s so much I’ve read about, but I’d like to learn about it firsthand... with you. We can finally celebrate things like Valentine’s Day and Christmas together and I think we’d really enjoy them. We could go to the beach together. Every beach in the world, if we wanted.”

 

Crowley had been lazily untying Aziraphale’s bowtie during this little speech. He slid the bowtie from around the angel’s neck and draped it around his own.

 

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind doing a little research with you.” Crowley slid open Aziraphale’s top button. “You’re right, with the bosses off our backs we can go on proper dates now, instead of just dinner and the occassional quick fuck.” The angel shivered pleasantly at this. “We can really… ” He slid open the second button, “take our time.”

 

“Then that will be our year. A year of doing things like humans do.” 

 

Aziraphale got out this last sentence with a little difficulty, because Crowley had started to trace his nose along the angel’s collarbone. 

 

“Yes, like humans do,” Crowley agreed quietly. “Now, can we do something else that humans do?”

 

They had gotten progressively more horizontal as this conversation had gone on. Aziraphale had slipped his hands under Crowley’s shirt and onto the small of his back, and Crowley was already arching into the touch like a snake poised to strike.

 

“You  _ know _ the rule I have about this loveseat. It’s an antique,” Aziraphale said pointedly. His hands continued to roam up and down the demon’s back, however.

 

“New year, new rules?” Crowley suggested. He flicked his forked tongue against the corner of the angel’s mouth, tasting the wine they had shared, and Aziraphale’s lips parted. “We can be a little bad, just this once.” 

 

It ended up being about half a dozen times more than “just once.” The loveseat held, but it was thoroughly worn out by the morning.

  
  



	2. Valentine's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But since the bubble bath was a little too bubbly for some, we're going to finish strong with-"
> 
> "No."
> 
> "Striptease!"
> 
> "Oh! ...Yeah, that could be fun. I'd like that." Crowley was already practically drooling at the thought of Aziraphale in tight little shorts. 
> 
> "I'd like that, too! See you strut your stuff," Aziraphale said with a little seated dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you watch a lot of Bob's Burgers, you'll know exactly how this goes down :^)

Their first attempt at a human holiday had been… well, it had sucked. Valentine’s Day was enough pressure for humans, but Crowley and Aziraphale had both been sweating buckets trying to make up for 6000 years of missed opportunities for romance. None of the cards were mushy enough, none of the flower bouquets were big enough, and none of the chocolate was sweet enough to capture how they felt. So, they thought they had really lucked out when Aziraphale found a mini Valentine’s advent calendar in a local shop.

 

“Well, this will tell us exactly what to do! We’ll just follow this and have a wonderfully romantic Valentine’s week,” Aziraphale said, relieved.

 

They had not had a wonderfully romantic Valentine’s week.

 

Day one was sexy cooking. As much as Aziraphale loved food and Crowley loved watching him eat it, neither of them had any cooking experience. Crowley was eager to learn, and had even gotten a novelty apron that said “Blow me, I’m hot,” but after the third fire they decided to throw in the towel.

 

The second day came with a pair of sexy dice. The first selected an action and the second what body part to perform it on. Crowley was pretty excited about them but after getting "lick foot" three times in a row despite all attempts at demonic and angelic intervention he chucked them out the window. If he had been eagle-eyed enough and bothered to look out onto the street, he would've been disgusted to see a fourth roll of "lick foot."

 

Day three was meant to be a romantic bubble bath. They had taken all of Aziraphale's expensive scented candles and all of Crowley's stolen church candles and gotten them all arranged and lit around Aziraphale's copper clawfoot tub. They each thought the other looked sublime standing nude in the candlelight, but as they helped each other into the tub they realized something was off.

 

"Doesn't the water seem… a bit thick somehow? As though it's all bubbles and no water… Where is the water?" Crowley asked, baffled, pushing the bubbles aside.

 

"I figured more bubbles equalled more romance, so I used the whole bottle," Aziraphale shrugged as he sank into what looked like a snowbank.

 

"The whole bottle? You're supposed to use a teaspoon, angel. It's like a paste in here!"

 

Aziraphale was giggling.

 

"What?"

 

"Crowley, the bubbles on your chin look _exactly_ like the little beard you had in the 1500s." Aziraphale was really starting to crack up, and his shaking shoulders were making the bubbles quiver.

 

"Well you," Crowley began, placing a cake sized chunk of the paste on Aziraphale's head, "look exactly like a barrister."

 

"Guilty as charged!" Aziraphale exclaimed in a posh voice and they both completely lost it for a good couple of minutes.

 

They decided to throw in the towel again, in this case literally. Aziraphale unfortunately threw his towel directly on one of the candles and they had to put out a fourth fire.

 

Crowley had figured that that was the end of that, but Aziraphale resolutely pulled out the Valentine's calendar the next evening while they were binging Great British Bake Off in Crowley’s living room. The demon arched his eyebrow.

 

"I know we've had a few misfires… " Aziraphale began tentatively.

 

"-And four _actual_ fires," Crowley protested.

 

"But since the bubble bath was a little too bubbly for some, we're going to finish strong with-"

 

"No."

 

"Striptease!"

 

"Oh! ...Yeah, that could be fun. I'd like that." Crowley was already practically drooling at the thought of Aziraphale in tight little shorts.

 

"I'd like that, too! See you strut your stuff," Aziraphale said with a little seated dance.

 

"Wait, _me_?"

 

"Yes! Magician Michael me, darling!"

 

"It's Magic Mike. And really?"

 

"Of course!"

 

"... Ok... But if I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna really do it, Zira. I'm gonna go all in. If Anthony J Crowley strips, he's gonna strip serious," Crowley decided, standing up.

 

"Like what? Like how?" Aziraphale was already looking at him with stars in his eyes.

 

"Like crazy! Like you've never seen. Like you wa… you won't even want it." Crowley hiked up his pants and began determinedly pointing. "After 20 seconds of my strip tease you're gonna… you'll wanna leave. I very luckily happen to have the exact… the perfect outfit for this. I'm gonna go shave my chest and pick out some music."

 

"And maybe brush your teeth, too?" Aziraphale suggested.

 

"Oh, right."

 

"Maybe floss?" He asked even more sweetly.

 

"… Fine."

 

"Tickety-boo!" Aziraphale exclaimed with a wiggle.

 

Crowley left and Aziraphale continued sipping his wine and watched Chetna succeed at her Povitica technical challenge. There were many loud, concerning noises coming from the bathroom, but Crowley insisted he was fine every time Aziraphale asked if he needed help.

 

A glass of wine and a Schichttorte later, Crowley announced that he was ready from the adjacent room.

 

“Ok, I’m gonna start the music! Just… don’t look at my back, I started shaving but I gave up. Human razor technology is really not up to snuff.”

 

Aziraphale turned off the TV, set down his wine, and straightened his vest. “Great, I’m ready!” Aziraphale said, his voice a bit higher and breathier than usual.

 

**_♫ ♪_ ** _Baby can’t you see... I’m calling, a guy like you, should wear a warning, you’re dangerous… I’m falling_ **_♫ ♪_ **

 

At this point Crowley emerged from around the corner. He was wearing… a costume? Lingerie? Aziraphale wasn’t really sure how to classify it. It was… something. Around his waist was some sort of black loincloth, or perhaps it was long enough to be classified as a skirt. He was shirtless, but there were sleeves on just his forearms that ended at the wrists in long tassels. Knee high gladiator sandals and black costume angel wings completed the look. There was also a lot of glitter and body oil, just in general.

 

“Crowley?…” Aziraphale began, trying not to smirk, but failing.

 

“What, babe, I’m like, about to go, here,” Crowley said impatiently, running a hand through his hair.

 

Aziraphale was definitely chuckling at this point, despite all attempts to hold it in. “What… Where did you, um, get that… particular… getup?”

 

Crowley paused the music on his phone.

 

“It’s a fallen angel costume! I got it at a, ah, sex shop. I thought you would like this, it’s very sexy! Like, me being a demon and- and… tempting you to sin mortally and all that!” Crowley gesticulated wildly, making the arm tassels swing comically.

 

“Temptation _not_ accomplished, my dear,” Aziraphale said, as kindly as he could between bursts of shrill laughter.

 

“Come on, is _this,_ ” Crowley gave a twirl, “really not doing anything for you?” The back was somehow a thong.

 

Aziraphale shrieked with laughter. “My _scrumptious_ , darling boy, you must stop, you’ll discorporate me!” Aziraphale wheezed.

 

“Come on, Zira, my vanity is all I have, you’ve mortally wounded me here!” Crowley joked weakly, but obviously a bit hurt.

 

Aziraphale was in no state to get up from the couch yet, but he took Crowley’s hands and very seriously looked Crowley in the eyes.

 

“I promise you, my love, that you are the sexiest being on this planet or any other, but if I have to see you in this a moment longer, I will lose my sanity.”

 

“Well, I was planning on taking it off,” Crowley said suggestively, wiggling his hips like a charmed snake.

 

“No, no, it’s quite too much for me,” Aziraphale protested, the laughing fit beginning again.

 

Crowley reluctantly snapped his fingers and his clothes morphed into a V-neck T-shirt and black sweatpants, his “I’m staying in and moping” clothes.

 

“Crowley, I find you much more alluring in that.” Aziraphale’s eyes roamed appreciatively over the demon’s body, lingering on the places the shirt clung to his narrow chest.

 

“Seriously?” Crowley sighed, defeated.

 

Seriously,” Aziraphale affirmed, pulling him into his lap.

 

“Do you really think I’m the sexiest being in the universe?” Crowley asked, making the snake equivalent of puppy eyes.

 

“Well, now you’re just fishing. But yes, I do.” Aziraphale rubbed his arm comfortingly. “I suppose we just don’t really have the hang of this ‘human’ thing yet. We’ll do better on the next holiday.”

 

Crowley turned around to straddle Aziraphale, wrapping his arms around the angel’s neck. His fingers tangled in Aziraphale’s light golden curls.

 

“Can we do something else that humans do?”

 

“Crowley, I don’t think either of us are in the mood for sex anymore,” Aziraphale sighed.

 

“I meant watch British Bake Off, you naughty angel,” Crowley grinned devilishly, back in high spirits.

 

“You did that on purpose,” Aziraphale muttered, magicing the TV back on.

 

“Yep,” Crowley agreed, kissing the corner of the angel’s mouth cheekily. He swung his leg back over and curled up next to Aziraphale with his head on the angel’s shoulder and Aziraphale’s arm wrapped automatically around his shoulders.

 

Crowley found himself getting extremely comfortable and fell asleep sprawled across the couch with his head in Aziraphale’s lap. The angel stroked Crowley’s hair, paying more attention to him than the desserts on the screen. Crowley woke up a few hours later, but pretended to still be asleep. The sun rose, but neither of them gave it much mind, still enjoying each other’s warmth.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna know what Crowley was wearing, it's this lol  
> https://www.123rf.com/photo_33542992_sexy-male-stripteaser-dressed-in-suit-of-fallen-angel.html
> 
> Thanks for reading! Next up is them getting schwasty on St. Patrick's Day.


	3. St. Patty's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of St. Patrick’s Day, Crowley and Aziraphale had decided to get tipsy. This was really just a typical Saturday in the bookshop, but Aziraphale thought that to truly respect the holiday, they should discuss this history of it. Aziraphale rambling about historical figures was a typical Tuesday in the bookshop, so it was really just like any other day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance if any of the history is off, I got it all off of one website and I'm not a big history buff.

“Did you know Patrick… Isn’t even Patrick?” Aziraphale said gravely.

 

“Mmm… Wait, then who is he?” Crowley asked, already lost.

 

In celebration of St. Patrick’s Day, Crowley and Aziraphale had decided to get tipsy. This was really just a typical Saturday in the bookshop, but Aziraphale thought that to truly respect the holiday, they should discuss this history of it. Aziraphale rambling about historical figures was a typical Tuesday in the bookshop, so it was really just like any other day.

 

“Patricius… But before that…” Aziraphale scrunched his face, thinking hard. “Maewyn Succat. But also, Magonus, Succetus, Coth- Cothirth- he had a bunch of names.”

 

“Ugh, too many naaames.”

 

“As many as you’ve had!”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Anyways, he wasn’t even Irish. He was kidnapped! By Irish _pirates_.”

 

Crowley brandished an imaginary sword. “Aaah, I love pirates. Good company.”

 

“Bad company,” Aziraphale frowned. “He converted to Christianity. Escaped. Terrible at it though, he got caught by the French.”

 

“Hehe, now _they’re_ bad company,” Crowley said, smiling toothily, remembering his daring rescue of Aziraphale at the Bastille.

 

“Good crepes, though. And the brioche.” Aziraphale went a bit distant for a moment, thinking about desserts and handsome demons who committed minor miracles.

 

“Sooo… what happened to him?” Crowley prompted after the rather lengthy pause.

 

Aziraphale beamed, loving that Crowley not only let him wax poetic on the historic, but that he actually encouraged it. “They sent him back. To Britain, I mean, not Ireland. He learned, studied The Good Book-”

 

Crowley rolled his eyes at this.

 

“The Bible,” Aziraphale compromised. “He said he had some sort of vision, telling him to bring Christianity to the Irish pagans. It wasn’t any of ours that sent him that, though, I checked the files.”

 

Crowley chuckled. “So he was just fuuuuull of shit.”

 

“Many missionaries are, unfortunately. Plenty of pagans have perfectly fine souls.”

 

“Mmm, good alliteration,” Crowley commented. “Plenty of perfect pagans, plenty of perfect pagans, plenty of plerfect- agh.”

 

They both laughed warmly. Crowley took a good swig of his beer and Aziraphale sipped his delicately. Crowley had procured a keg from them to split in honor of the holiday, and they were now most of the way through it.

 

“ _Anyway_. He baptized a bunch of people, gathered priests and nuns, formed churches. Usual missionary business. But, you want to know what’s _really_ funny?” Aziraphale got a bit of a twinkle in his eye.

 

Crowley cackled loudly.

 

"Dear, I haven't even told you what's funny yet."

 

“Oh, hmm, right," Crowley said, recovering. "Did he get caught, ah, shagging a nun?”

 

“Now, Crowley, why would I find that funny? No, he’s _famous_ for having banished all the _snakes_ from Ireland,” Aziraphale said archly.

 

“Nooooo, why didn’t you tell me before we went on vacation last year?” Crowley dropped his head into his hands in mock shame. “How- _how,”_ He looked up again. “How could I go against the powerful banishment of the Great Saint Patrolicus?” He shook his fist at the sky against this great nemesis.

 

“Patricius,” Aziraphale corrected, but he chuckled appreciatively at Crowley’s performance. “And there were never actually any snakes in Ireland to begin with. Easy to get rid of what isn’t _there_ ,” Aziraphale shrugged.

 

Crowley was a bit too drunk to quite follow this last sentence, but he nodded. “Easy peasy.”

 

“Patrick died in the fifth century, but celebrations didn’t start until… the seventeenth. In 1902 Feast Day was a national holiday in Ireland. Other people wanted in on the celebration, other countries. Did you know it’s celebrated in more countries than any other national festival?”

 

“Makes sense, though, everyone wants in on a party about drinking… Like Oktoberfest.” Crowley drank deeply to prove his point.

 

“Ah, but the alcohol didn’t come in until later. That was actually pooh-poohed until the 1970s. A marketing push from Budweiser in the 80s convinced people to conflate the two. Makes for a bad stereotype, however.”

 

“Mmm, that the Irish are drunks? They drink about as much as anyone else. Less than we can, though.” Crowley gestured proudly at the empty keg they had consumed.

 

“Well, not everyone is an immortal being. And yes, we’ve had quite a lot, shall we call it quits?” Aziraphale pushed his mostly full glass away.

 

Crowley finished off his own tankard, while staring at Aziraphale with narrowed eyes. “ _We’ve_ had quite a lot? I’ve barely seen _you_ touch a drop. Drunk people don’t use the word ‘conflate’.”

 

Aziraphale blushed ever so slightly. “Honestly… I know it’s in the spirit of the holiday, but I hate beer. I think it tastes nasty.” He admitted, wrinkling his nose.

 

“Well! I can’t be getting wasted alone on St. Patrick’s Day,” Crowley declared.

 

The demon focused very hard on the alcohol left in Aziraphale’s glass and exhaled loudly through his lips. The liquid turned a slightly pinker shade and more bubbly. He snapped his fingers and a striped straw appeared.

 

“It’s no water into wine, but give that a shot. Wait-” He gave a quick twirl of his finger and a mint leaf found itself torn from the plant in his flat and magicked onto the top of the beverage. “There.”

 

Aziraphale appreciatively sipped his freshly made peach cocktail. “It’s delicious, dear, thank you.”

 

“Well, thank _you_ for the history lesson. I can never keep up on all these humans.”

 

Aziraphale was sheepish again.“Honestly, I’d forgotten half that stuff. I tried to do a “Google” of him last night, but I couldn’t get the computer working right so I skimmed an old history book.”

 

“Well, weeeell, look who’s using the internet.”

 

“Tryyying,” Aziraphale trilled, stirring the dregs of his drink with the straw. He had slurped the cocktail down quickly, and Crowley didn’t mix half-assed drinks.

 

“To Saint... Patriarch,” Crowley said, raising a glass that was magically full again, despite the empty keg.

 

“To Saint _Patricius_ ,” Aziraphale agreed, clinking them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I update a couple of times a week, it seems, cuz I'm very much back on my bullshit. Next chapter is........... something sexy >:)


	4. Along for the Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley teaches Aziraphale for an intimate first time

“Ok, hold that. Don’t let up until I tell you. Now go ahead and move your hand… here.” Crowley placed his hand on top of Aziraphale’s and guided it forward.

 

“Like that?”

 

“Yes, that’s the spot, right there. Ok, ease up now… Slowly. Good, and now work that, there. Delicate. Yes! Like that...”

 

Aziraphale obliged, but he was decidedly anxious. They started to move. “Am I going too fast?”

 

“No, that’s just right, angel, in fact let’s speed up a bit now.”

 

Aziraphale nodded resolutely.

 

“Ease up here, and try more there. A  _ bit _ more forcefully. Good. Now move your hand again, down here this time,” Crowley said patiently, moving Aziraphale’s hand slightly lower.

 

“Is my grip ok? The angle, I mean,” Aziraphale asked as he moved his hand. They sped up.

 

“Mmm, yes. You’re doing great, darling. Go like this for a little longer, then let’s slow down.”

 

"This feels nice, actually, I think I'm getting the hang of this."

 

"You're doing amazing, angel, you're such a quick learner," Crowley praised him.

 

They kept going at that pace for a while.

 

“Shall I slow down now?”

 

Crowley nodded, biting his lip.

 

Aziraphale was moving more confidently now, having found his rhythm. He pressed down hard, just like Crowley had told him, moving his hand at the same time.

 

“Wait, angel-”

 

Crowley groaned. Aziraphale gasped.

 

And the Bentley stalled out.

 

Crowley engaged the parking brake and cut the ignition so they could try again. Crowley had been spending the past hour teaching Aziraphale to drive stick shift in his car, and the angel was just starting to get it.

 

“Oh, darn, I was so close that time!” Aziraphale huffed.

 

“You were doing really well! The hardest part is shifting into first gear and you did that beautifully. You just forgot about the clutch when it came time to stop, that’s a mistake anyone could make,” Crowley reassured him.

 

Aziraphale was a bit breathless and flushed. “There’s just so many steps! It’s rather exhilarating, though. I get why you like it…” 

 

“Nothing quite like having your hand on the stick shift, eh?” Crowley asked, leaning back and resting his arm on the open window.

 

Aziraphale flushed a little deeper and continued more seriously. “It’s not just that… It’s having my hand on  _ your  _ stick shift. Sitting in the driver’s seat of  _ your _ Bentley. I know how you feel about this car." Aziraphale placed his hand back on the gear shift, running his thumb over the grooves of the numbers. "It’s, ah, well... I find it... incredibly intimate,” he finished in a low voice.  _ The  _ low voice that Aziraphale saved for long nights and whispers and hands curled in sheets.

 

Crowley looked down at Aziraphale's deft fingers. He started to actually process how he felt having Aziraphale in the driver’s seat of his Bentley, back against his seat, feet on his pedals, hands on his wheel. The gears ground to a halt in his head and he swallowed.

 

“So, it’s pretty sexy driving my car is what you’re saying?” he responded hoarsely in a failed attempt at breeziness.

 

Aziraphale nodded stiffly, glancing sideways at Crowley, and then looking straight ahead. Crowley tried very hard not to think about a certain other stick shift that was sitting just on the other side of the Bentley's. The space in the car seemed to shrink. Aziraphale absentmindedly continued to thumb the gear shift, and Crowley pretended not to be watching. They sat in silence for a moment, staring out the window at the abandoned parking lot they had found far outside the city for these lessons. A bee buzzed past, and the grass growing from the cracks in the concrete quivered in the wind.

 

“Wanna fuck?” Crowley suggested.

 

“Oh, heavens yes,” Aziraphale agreed, undoing his seatbelt shakily.

 

The demon was already clambering over the console to straddle Aziraphale’s lap. They kissed urgently, hungrily. Crowley pressed into Aziraphale, pinning him against the leather seat. Aziraphale’s hands automatically reached up to squeeze Crowley’s ass, which was also covered in leather. Aziraphale kissed his way down Crowley’s jaw, his neck, and his chest. Crowley threw his head back with a groan, already starting to rock his hips. Aziraphale slowed just long enough to pull the handle to slide the seat back a bit and they continued…

 

They finished their lesson about an hour later, both of them panting in the backseat of the Bentley. They had been extremely thorough about going over every inch of the car.

 

“You know, Zira, as much as I like driving, there's also something wonderful about  _ riding _ in a stick shift.” Crowley declared with mock seriousness, gesturing with his hand.

 

"Yes, you've always been a very good at, ah… riding," Aziraphale breathed out. He hadn't always enjoyed his time in the Bentley, but his opinion of it had somewhat improved.

 

"What can I say, I've always liked it when  _ you  _ drive," Crowley smirked, putting his shades back on.

 

"Thank you, dear. But all entendre aside, you'll have to be the one to actually drive us home. I still cannot drive a car."

 

"Yes, angel," Crowley grinned, "I'll take you wherever you want to go."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> (If One person, even just One person asks for it, I will make an explicit version of this, do not test me lol (please test me))


	5. The April Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a moment, I've been out of town and then distracted writing porn womp womp. This chapter is basically crack with some domestic seasoning. Highly based on the ancient "Loki'd" video and a scene from parks and rec. enjoy

“Here you go, light of my life!” Aziraphale placed Crowley’s coffee in front of him at the breakfast bar with his usual morning-person good cheer. He was already fully dressed and had tidied up the living room from the night before.

 

“Hmm,” Crowley grunted, his hair mussed up and his bathrobe barely tied. He started to slide the mug towards himself, but then he paused. “Wait, what day is it?”

 

“It’s Wednesday, the first of April.” Aziraphale beamed, pouring his second cup of morning tea.

 

Crowley squinted at the cup. “Yeah, ok, then I’m not drinking that.”

 

“What, why?” Aziraphale asked, his face dropping.

 

“I’m not stupid, angel, it’s April Fool’s! Morning is the perfect time to get me, I bet anything there’s vinegar or hot sauce in there,” Crowley said, curling his lip.

 

“Wha- oh! Oh, no, dear, I didn’t realize that at all. I promise you, I did not put anything in your coffee. Angel’s honor.” Aziraphale held up his hand in the three fingered Boy Scout salute and made a circular gesture like a halo.

 

Crowley knew that Aziraphale would never lie to him, so he went ahead and took a slow sip. It was a normal, delicious cup of black coffee.

 

Aziraphale giggled. 

 

“...  _ What. _ ”

 

“Nothing, dear! Just enjoy your coffee,” he said, stirring the sugar into his tea.

 

Crowley looked at the cup. It  _ seemed _ fine. He drank some more. It tasted perfectly fine… 

 

Aziraphale sniggered loudly.

 

“Ok, that’s it, what the heaven did you do to my coffee, Aziraphale?!” Crowley pushed the offending cup away.

 

Aziraphale couldn’t contain himself any longer. “There’s no caffeine in it!” he gushed. 

 

Crowley blinked. It was too early for this shit.

 

“It’s decaf! I took the caffeine out. I decaffeinated it! And you needed caffeine!” the angel continued. He was practically vibrating.

 

Crowley still said nothing, but began to rub his chin in exasperation. 

 

“It’s a prank, dear!” Aziraphale explained unnecessarily. “You’re going to be so sleepy, you’re not going to be able to stay awake! You’re going to look like such a fool!”

 

“...Wow,” Crowley deadpanned. 

 

Aziraphale didn’t pick up on this at all. “I know, I really tricked you! I was so worried when you asked me if I had put anything in it, but I had  _ technically _ only taken something out,” Aziraphale justified.

 

Crowley so wanted to be pissed. He really did. But Aziraphale was just too damn cute. And ridiculously proud, considering it was the worst prank in the world. 

 

“Well, babe, you really got me,” Crowley conceded. Aziraphale smiled at him with a bounce on his toes. But as soon as Aziraphale turned around to rinse out his winged mug, Crowley twirled his finger over his cup and re-caffeinated his coffee. As precious as Aziraphale was, he needed his morning Joe.

 

Around lunchtime, Aziraphale started getting antsy. They were out at a little cafe they frequented because Aziraphale adored their macarons. The two sat perched on tall stools near the window, leaning close and wrapped in their own little bubble. Aziraphale had bought an assortment of sweets, and he kept feeding Crowley a bite of each of them, with an “oh, this one is scrummy,” and an “I think you’ll really enjoy this!” With much coaxing, Aziraphale managed to tempt Crowley into getting a few cake pops for himself.

 

“That’s probably around four pounds, right?” Crowley asked the cashier, pulling out some cash from his wallet. 

 

“Actually, those have already been paid for,” the girl said. She looked pointedly behind him to their table where Aziraphale was doubled over with laughter.

 

“You’re such a fool, Crowley! I bought your food _for_ you.” He leaned toward Crowley, hands pressed flat on the table. “You’ve been  _ pranked _ again! I had this all planned from the start! I’m such a fallen angel,” he congratulated himself.

 

Crowley snatched his cake pops and stalked back to their table. “ _ That’s _ why you’ve been so weird for the past half hour? Dear, that’s not a- oh, never mind.” Crowley had been going to explain why buying your husband a surprise snack wasn’t a prank, but Aziraphale seemed even more tickled pink about this than the last one. Crowley sighed. “Want some? I ate half your stuff,” Crowley offered, holding out the blueberry cake pop. 

 

“Thank you, darling.” Aziraphale stood on the rung of his stool to lean over and take a bite out of Crowley’s dessert. “Mmm,” Aziraphale hummed in contentment, sitting back down.

 

_ Ugh. Adorable, infuriating, bastard angel,  _ Crowley thought.

 

In the evening, Aziraphale started getting weird again. He kept looking out the window and listening for a sound, obviously waiting for someone or something that was going to arrive. Crowley really hoped it was not some _ one _ because he had already taken off his trousers and he had  _ no _ intention of putting them back on, even if it was for God herself. 

 

There was finally a knock. Aziraphale raced down the stairs of the bookshop and wove his way to the front.

 

“Need you to sign for this, Mr. Aziraphale,” the man at the door said. 

 

If Crowley had a better ear he would’ve recognized the voice of the delivery driver, but as it was he didn’t much care. He was stuck waiting with great trepidation for whatever this final sad prank was going to be. He sat on the edge of the bed, drumming his fingers silently on the mattress.

 

Aziraphale rejoined him in the bedroom, very obviously holding something behind his back. 

 

Aziraphale pulled it out and offered it to him, the picture of angelic sweetness, the most darling glowing cherub, the kind of face painted by the old masters.

 

“Crowley… Would you like a peanut?”

 

The demon finally flipped his lid.

 

“No, Aziraphale!”

 

The angel took a half step backwards, shocked. Crowley circled the room like a hawk.

 

“I know there aren’t peanuts in there! I know there’s a fake snake that’ll pop out! This is  _ literally _ the oldest trick in the book, and I’m not going to pretend to fall for it! You’re shit at this!” 

 

Crowley immediately realized he had overstepped.

 

“Oh, no Zira, I’m sorry- I just- argh!”

 

Aziraphale wasn’t crying, but there was a definite mistiness in his eyes. He smacked the can down on his writing desk.

 

“No, Crowley,  _ I’m _ sorry. I thought this was fun, I thought  _ we  _ were having fun, but apparently… apparently not. What, I’m too  _ nice _ to really trick anyone?”

 

Crowley slid up, trying to hold Aziraphale to comfort him, but the angel was still too huffy and turned away. Crowley gave up and collapsed on the bed with a groan.

 

“Angel, I’m sorry. I know you put a lot of effort into these. But an angel pranking a demon? I’m the wily one, it’s part of my job description. I’m more of a prank _ er  _ than a prank _ ee _ .”

 

Aziraphale pouted. “I suppose that’s true,” he finally admitted with a sigh. “This holiday just seemed so fun! But I guess this isn’t really my strong suit.” Aziraphale sat down on the edge of the bed, head bowed, hands clasped in his lap. 

 

Crowley sat up.

 

“Yes, this _is_  more of my thing… What if I helped you? We could prank someone else, together? You could do all the best bit of it, but I’ll help you with the planning.”

 

Aziraphale finally perked up and turned to look at him.

 

“I would love to do that with you, dear.”

 

“Great. Now, I’m very, very tired. I’m going to sleep.” Crowley scooched up the bed and got under the covers.

 

Aziraphale had never slept, but he liked the ritual and feeling of pajamas, so he got up to change. “Just one thing first?”

 

“Hm?”

 

Aziraphale whipped around from the desk pulling the lid off of the peanut can as he did so. The spring coiled snake flew in a perfect arc to hit Crowley square in the chest.

 

“Got you!”

 

“Ugh. Yes, you did. Congrats.”

 

~*~

 

It took a very full day of intensive planning and many phone calls and emails, but the pair managed to create their ultimate prank and were ready to put it into action.

 

Crowley and Aziraphale invited Anathema, Newton, Madame Tracy, and Sergeant Shadwell to the bookstore under the guise of a little reunion. They had enjoyed some snacks and caught up on what had happened in the past year, but Aziraphale had been extremely obviously on edge the entire time. He had stepped out briefly to make a phone call, triple checking the final details. Crowley poked his head outside to make sure that Aziraphale was going to take a few minutes before caving in to his better (ugh) instincts. 

 

“You guys, be cool.” Crowley cautioned, whipping into the room with dervish-like energy. 

 

“What's going on?” Anathema asked.

 

“Aye, is the pansy alright?” Shadwell said. This earned him an elbow from Madame Tracy.

 

“Yes? But, I kind of convinced Zira to prank you guys and it got a little out of hand and he probably should have said no to some of my ideas but he's on his way here, here he is just be cool.” 

 

Crowley pretended to lean casually against a stack of books. Everyone else sat a little stiffer or hunched, the exact opposite of “being cool.” Aziraphale didn’t notice as he came in the door, already looking decidedly sweaty.

 

“Hey, everyone, what's up? Oh, hey, I just remembered, can I show you guys something out to the front area? And please leave your cell phones. Because of- no reason- just leave anything that cant get wet, like you would normally.” Aziraphale sounded rather breathy as he paced around, and he pulled out his handkerchief to pat his face dry. 

 

There was a long moment of silence and none of them moved an inch. 

 

 “Ok, here we go to the street, now,” Aziraphale said, turning on his heel and heading to the door.

 

“Wow, this is really sad,” Anathema muttered.

 

“Maybe it’ll be a funny story later, at least,” Newt offered.

 

They got up reluctantly, leaving their cell phones on the table.

 

“Yep, follow to me guys, just going to the street for normal human reasons!” Aziraphale had started to open the door for them to exit, but he slammed it in their faces before they could leave. His chest was heaving with obvious anxiety. “Sorry, I can't go through with this, I was going to... pull a prank.”

 

Madame Tracy gasped politely.

 

“Yes, I hired some ruffians in ski masks to kidnap us and I was going pretend to be a hero. They were going shoot me and drive the van into the river and that's when the divers would go in, pull you all out of the water, and I was going be standing on the shore and say "Goodness, get pranked much?"”

 

“What in the fresh hell, laddie!?” Shadwell barked. 

 

Aziraphale shrank, but continued, “I got these squibs from a special effects man and I was going to say this code word-”

 

“And that's when I would push this button,” Crowley interjected helpfully, pushing the button.

“Crowley, don’t!” Aziraphale said, far too late. The squibs snapped off against the angel’s chest and he had to lean back against the door from the force of it. Fake blood shot out, but through a little miracle avoided hitting anyone and any of the books.

 

They were all silent again. Aziraphale slumped against the door in utter defeat. Crowley was tensed, but really didn’t know how to salvage this complete and utter disaster.

 

“Well, didn’t I say it would be a funny story later? And it will be! That was great fun, wasn’t it everyone?” Newton said.

 

After a pause and a pointed look from both Newton and Crowley, Anathema and Madame Tracy chimed in in agreement, while Shadwell just gave one loud “no.” 

 

Aziraphale stood up, looking a little pacified. “Really, was it alright?”

 

“Oh, it was most thrilling,” Madame Tracy exclaimed, and she began leading him back to the back of the bookstore while reassuring him and peppering him with questions about the squibs.

 

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Crowley mouthed at Newton, and they all settled down again to enjoy the rest of the evening.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Next up is Easter

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I've been doing pretty well about updating a few times a week.


End file.
